Just A Test
by Toothpaste Balaclava
Summary: The back-story of my Noble Six. Contains mild forms of torture and insanity. You have been warned. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

She slipped in and out of consciousness, the light fading from her eyes before returning.

The man before her smirked, raising the scalpel in his hand threateningly.  
>"So...will you tell me yet? Who do you work for?" He paused, and fingered the edge of the scalpel almost lovingly, stroking the sharp blade. "...What? Not going to answer?"<p>

I felt my breath catch in my throat and leaned closer to the screen, albeit unconsciously. She was performing well so far, our most successful yet. This was it. The decider. If she answered, she was done for. If not...

The AI beside me watched almost curiously, the normally blue hue of his skin turning a shade of green.  
>"If she passes... Then she will be used for <em>that<em>, won't she?"

"Of course."

I returned my gaze to the glowing screen before me, the hidden camera revealing everything that happened in that room. The masked man raised his hand swiftly.

"Have it your way then."

He drove the scalpel deep into her thigh. She bit back a cry of pain, gritting her teeth.  
>I couldn't see his face, his expression hidden behind that creepy mask of his. He leaned forward, and whispered something into her ear. I frowned. This wasn't part of the plan. His hand gripped her shoulder, held her still. His forehead came to a rest on her other shoulder.<p>

This definitely wasn't part of the plan.

xXx

She slipped in and out of consciousness. In and out, in and out. Kind of like the waves. I smirked, raising the scalpel in my hand threateningly. Perhaps she'll cave this time. Course, I wouldn't mind if she didn't.  
>"So...will you tell me yet? Who do you work for?" Pausing, I fingered the edge of the scalpel, tenderly stroking the blade. She's amazingly resistant to torture, this one. All the others would have told me anything I asked by now. I twirled the blade in my hands.<br>"What? Not going to answer?"  
>I flipped the blade over in my hand once more. This was it. If she caved in, she failed, and would be disposed of. If not...<p>

"Have it your way then."

I drove the blade deep into her thigh, narrowly avoiding anything major. It'd be bad if she started bleeding to death. I won't get my answers if she does.

I watched her bite back a pained cry, gritting her teeth. Her hate-filled glare burned through my skin, making its way through all the layers I had carefully crafted. I blinked, feeling utterly exposed for a just a moment.  
>I slammed my walls down on her intrusion and smirked. But of course, she couldn't see that, not with my mask on at the very least.<p>

Leaving the scalpel impaled in her thigh, I leant forward. Her harsh breathing assaulted my ears and the exposed skin between part of my mask and tinted goggles. Or shades. Eh, whichever you want to call it.

I squatted so that my head was level with hers, where my lips would be just brushing the top of her ear.  
>"Let's see how long you can last... Shall we?"<br>I grinned. Yes, I was going against orders but...just how much more can she take?

My hand gripped her injured shoulder, and I watched with intensifying pleasure as her pain grew. Perfect. She stayed slumped in her seat, rigid as a rock. But even rocks will break eventually.

I rested my forehead on her shoulder for a brief moment, savouring the smell of fear and pain lingering on her skin. Soon that scent may change.  
>"I'll be right back...love."<p>

Then I did what I had been trained to do for nearly my whole life. I left, a scalpel still embedded deep in her bloody thigh.

Making people suffer _is_ my specialty you know.

xXx

The cold and pain assaulted my defences the minute that bastard left. My body sagged against the hard, wooden chair, barely able to keep upright. The ropes tugging at my chest and limbs refused to release me, refused to let me give up and just collapse onto the cold floor. But I'm grateful, somewhat. It means my resolve won't wilt and crumble beneath his cruel gaze. I won't let it, so long as I am bound to this godforsaken chair.

The door opened a crack, letting the bright white light sneak in for a brief moment in time, before a rather large and imposing shadow blocked it.

He shoved the door open before kicking it shut behind him. A coffee mug was in one hand, a bloody car battery in the other.

I am so screwed.

xXx

I strolled into the viewing room.  
>"Sir."<p>

I poured myself a cup of the thick coffee the Admiral drank and examined one of the car batteries on the table. Perhaps I can shock her into talking.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing in there? You're time with her is finished!" He paused and watched me from the corner of his eye. "Look at me when I'm talking, sergeant. And stop staring at that battery."

"With all due respect sir... I have permission from ONI to continue her...test, shall we say, until I see fit to stop."

"You're going to kill her at this rate."

"Then she will only be another failed test subject. You need not worry, Admiral. You'll get your personal grim reaper."

The sergeant picked up the battery and swaggered out of the room.

"Eventually."


	2. Chapter 2

**It's been a long time... Sorry 'bout that. I couldn't think of how to continue, but then this suddenly came to me. Enjoy!**

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><p>There was always a pattern before. Receive orders, fight Covenant or insurrectionists, return to base, rest, receive orders, and so on.<br>But this time was different. It began like usual, visiting my commanding officers to receive my orders, but then what followed soon become my worst nightmare. Many ships were boarded for me to get where I am now, the place where I am now held against my will.

I'm not talking about the Covenant, the aliens I was raised to fight and defeat at all costs. All of that training, days spent trekking through unforgiving landscape, the countless number of scars and bruises I have gained over the years. None of that prepared me for this. For this seemingly endless torture being dealt to me for reasons I have still yet to comprehend.

That madman drove a scalpel through my thigh. But then, if I were given the order to torture someone like he's tortured me, I doubt I'd even think twice before beating the shit out of them. He's been taking it slow. Not that it makes me like him. If anything, I only hate him more for drawing out the experience.

"_I want a SPARTAN. One that'll be able to do whatever I tell them to and not reveal a single detail to anyone. One who will not utter a word when interrogated. One I can use. And I want that SPARTAN _now_." Black figures moved around in the shadows that ruled over most of the room. "Of course. Of the four we have here... At least one of them will fit your criteria perfectly."_

The four we have here... There's only me left. The others broke beneath the pain and begged for mercy.

"_...One who will not utter a word when interrogated..."_

They broke, and they paid for it with their lives.

"_You have failed the test. Unfortunately for you... We can't let you leave. Wouldn't want anyone to find out what happens here, eh?"  
>A gunshot. Blood sprayed from the hole that formed between his forehead as the bullet pierced his skull, forcing its way through the skin, then the bone, then the soft human brain that everyone seemed to forget lay beneath the helmet we SPARTANS always wear. Blood welled up in the wound and spilled down his face. Brain matter flew and splattered against the glass window of the viewing room. And still I did not flinch. I didn't even blink when they shot him. Because to me, failure was not an option a SPARTAN should, or could, have.<em>

I won't make the same mistake. I won't be another life lost to this living hell they call a test. I'll endure, and live, and I won't utter a single word. Because failure isn't an option for me.

It's never been an option.


	3. Chapter 3

**Second post in a night...I'm on a roll. Enjoy and R&R please**

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><p>It's over. It's all over. I can see the light of humanity again; piercing through the darkness they keep me enclosed in. I can return to my duty, return to saving humanity.<p>

Except I don't have any humanity left in me. Not enough to be worth anything at least. Black and white. It's all so clear-cut for the simple-minded who never experience the hardships of battle, who never step onto a battlefield where guns fire round after round into the chest or the head of the enemy. But the line isn't so distinct anymore. If my own fellow humans would torture me as a test to see I'm worthy enough to serve some superior, what exactly makes us worth more than the Covenant?

Why are we more important? Why is humanity more important than the lives of a different species? I don't understand anymore. I probably won't for a long time.

I ease my body onto the operating table and wait. An oxygen mask is placed over my mouth and nose, and strapped to my head. With a soft hiss, the gas begins to fill my lungs.

"Just keep breathing normally, SPARTAN."

I watched the medics as they slowly added anaesthetic to my air. I hated being unconscious, the dark now a constant reminder of what they put me through. What _he _put me through.

A whole month. A whole month spent in that godforsaken room, allowing that man to damage me howsoever he pleased. A whole month of submitting myself to the pain he inflicted while not fighting back. Pain, darkness and rough hands. His cruel laugh echoing within the confines of the four walls that enclosed me. Burning itself into my memory.

"_It's just a test, B-312. It'll be over before you know it."_

Really? It felt a lot more like years have passed. I feel like I've aged at least a decade. Strapped to that chair and caged, like a helpless civilian.

I hate being caged. I hate the ones who took away my humanity, who made me question whether my fellow humans are worth saving. I hate them. Every single one of them.

"_It'll only take a bit of time."_ They said. Only a bit of time. Only a few lives which shouldn't have ended. Only my sanity. It's just a test.

But then, when hasn't it been "just a test"?

The black engulfed me, pulling me into unconsciousness. Into a place where I was still who I had been. Who I would never be again.

"Are you sure you still want her? That wound in her leg... It'll never function the way it used to. Shouldn't we just get rid of her?"

No. I'm still useful. I can still fight. Just leave me be. Just leave you test subject be.

"Not yet. She's still useful."

Endless, terrifying, black. At least it's only temporary. At least I'll wake up again.


End file.
